


to have and to hold

by desastrista



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Discussion of Pedophilia, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, The Regent Gets Punched, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desastrista/pseuds/desastrista
Summary: Damen and Laurent are getting married! For Laurent, it should be the happiest day of his life. For Jord, an unexpected invitation could be the start of something more. But the course of true love never did run smooth, and an unwanted guest threatens to ruin the wedding.Features fake dating and real discussion of sexual abuse, happy endings for everyone except the Regent (which is of course the happiest ending of them all)Written for Captive Prince Secret Santa.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Participant 27, in a perhaps overly ambitious attempt to answer three requests:  
> 1\. Aimeric lives (and also, Aimeric apologizes)  
> 2\. Married Damen/Laurent, with sappy!Damen  
> 3\. Fake Dating Fake Dating Fake Dating 
> 
> I hope that you like it!

“Laurent, will you marry me?” 

Everytime Laurent looked at the solid gold of his wedding band, he heard Damen’s voice say those five words in his head again like it was the first time. They had gotten engaged while going on a walk near the lake, a walk that Damen had tried unsuccessfully to convince Laurent was completely spontaneous and totally unplanned. They had talked a lot about getting married before that day, and the subject of proposals had even come up a few times. Laurent knew that Damen liked those big, elaborate proposals that went viral but Laurent had threatened in no uncertain terms to murder Damen if he went that route. And so Damen -- out of fear of his life, respect for Laurent’s wishes, or some combination of the two -- had chosen a nice, secluded spot to get down on one knee and say those five simple words. 

Laurent liked thinking about that moment. He let his eyes linger on his ring finger as he paced near the window of the apartment he shared with Damen while waiting for his father to pick up the phone. That day had been such a good memory; why did all the rest of wedding planning have to be terrible?

“Laurent!” his dad finally answered the phone. “I assume that you got my call about the guest list?” 

Laurent had gotten said call, and had done his best to ignore it. But his parents were putting money towards the deposit for the venue and they had wanted a say in the guest list. It was only fair, but that didn’t mean Laurent had to like it. He made the barest noise of acknowledgment to his father’s question. 

“I couldn’t help but think, well,” Aleron paused, clearly trying to come up with a diplomatic way to state what they both knew. “Your guest list was a little short. It had fifteen people on your side.” 

“I'm trying to keep the wedding small.”

“Damen's side had about a hundred and fifty guests, if I recall.” 

“Damen is trying very unsuccessfully to keep the wedding small.” Laurent had actually had to talk his future husband down from three hundred. Laurent didn’t think he himself could even name three hundred people, let alone come up with that many names of people he would actually _want_ to see. But Damen had always been popular and outgoing and had the guest list to show for it. 

“What about the extended family?” his dad pressed. “You’ve been invited to some of their weddings in the past. It only seems right to invite them too.” 

Laurent's mind raced with excuses. “I'm not close to any of them.” 

“But they're family.”

They were family. The problem, of course, was that the Regent was also family. Laurent had thought about inviting his extended family and simply omit the Regent, but he knew that would make his father ask too many questions. (The last thing he wanted was for Aleron to start asking questions.) He’d briefly contemplated inviting the whole family but then “mysteriously” losing his uncle’s invitation in the dumpster, but that would also catch his father’s attention. His third plan -- and his personal favorite -- had been to elope and then sail off for a glorious honeymoon where he could finally leave all his problems behind. Damen had axed that one, because he “liked his family” and “wanted to spend time with them” or something ridiculous and outlandish along those lines. 

So Laurent had been left with just his final plan, which was to simply not invite anyone he was not extremely close with to the wedding. 

Needless to say, his father had proved less than receptive to this plan. 

“It’s my wedding,” Laurent dug in his heels. “I’m not going to invite someone -- some people if I don’t want to.” 

“I don’t understand. This is your family,” his dad repeated, a plaintive note in his voice, as if Laurent was the one being unreasonable instead of merely trying to protect the life he had built up for himself the moment he could get away from his uncle. But it wasn’t like his father knew that. And it wasn’t something that Laurent was going to be able to explain. 

“Fine,” Laurent spat out, not knowing how to talk his way out of this one. “I’ll invite the family.” 

He had built a new life for himself from the ground up the minute he had realized his family could not protect him from himself. He’d gone to a new city, built up a successful career, met the love of his life. It was a good life. And an integral part of that life was not telling anyone about who the Regent was or what he had done. His parents had never known. Damen didn’t even know. 

He talked with his father for a little longer about assorted wedding business, although his thoughts were elsewhere. When his father finally hung up the phone, Laurent gave an unhappy sigh and took another look at his ring. He had been so happy to get engaged. Why did the rest of the wedding have to be so stressful? 

 

******

 

Jord had spent the past thirty minutes staring at his phone, and then an additional ten minutes or so deliberately _not_ looking at his phone while trying to convince himself he had hallucinated the text message he had just gotten. 

“Hey Jord,” Aimeric had written. “Will you be my plus one for this wedding coming up?”

Jord hadn’t answered. He’d been too busy going through all the possible reasons this message could have been sent. Orlant had somehow gotten a hold of Aimeric’s phone and was prank texting Jord. Aimeric had suffered a small bout of insanity and had sent this message without understanding what he was writing. Aimeric had meant to text a different Jord that he knew but had gotten the number wrong. 

Or maybe it was possible that Jord was overthinking things and Aimeric just wanted a date for a wedding. 

“Yeah,” he texted back at first. 

A few seconds after he responded, a few thoughts occurred to him, and he wrote back, “When is the wedding? Who is getting married?” 

In struck him that he maybe should have asked those questions before agreeing. But he always got tongue-tied around Aimeric. Aimeric had been an intern at Jord’s company last summer. He was a few years younger than Jord, but he worked hard at an unglamorous job and Jord admired that. Orlant said Jord also admired Aimeric’s floppy curls and cute ass, which was true enough. But Orlant also said that Jord should ask Aimeric out, and that was not true. Jord was far too embarrassed to do anything of the sort. 

So the end of summer rolled around, Aimeric left the company to go back to school, but he gave Jord his number and they still texted on and off.

“You already agreed without even knowing when? ;)” Aimeric texted back, and Jord didn't have anything to say because “I would clear my schedule for you” might be the truth but it was too much to spring on some poor former intern who Jord had never actually gone out with. 

“Laurent is getting married two months from now,” Aimeric continued. 

Jord frowned. Laurent worked on the same floor as Jord. He was one of those high-priced company lawyers. Everyone was afraid of him. Jord had heard vaguely that someone in the office was getting married, but he had never thought it would be Laurent, in much the same way that you don’t ever think a marble statue would ever get married. People at work didn’t really talk to Laurent. They just got out of his way. 

Except apparently Aimeric. Although the more he thought about it, the more sure Jord became that he had never seen Laurent and Aimeric actually talk. 

“Didn’t know you two were close,” he said. 

“We’re not,” Aimeric replied quickly. “My dad is friends with his dad, that’s it. Weddings are lame. I wouldn’t be going but my dad insisted.” 

Jord's heart sank lower than it should have reading those words. So this wedding wasn’t really a date, it was just a chore for Aimeric. 

“Well, I'll try to make it fun for you,” he sent back. 

A single text back read, “Actually…” 

It took Aimeric a few minutes to write the follow up text but that didn't matter because Jord was glued to his phone the whole time. 

“I might have told my dad I had a boyfriend who was going to show up at the wedding,” Aimeric’s reply said. “I just invented one in the heat of an argument, haha. I know this is a weird request, but can you be that fake boyfriend?” 

Whatever Jord had been expecting to read, it definitely wasn’t that story. He stared at the message in confusion, reread it once and then read it out loud under his breath as if that would coax some semblance of meaning or sanity to the words. He had imagined so many different ways of asking Aimeric out. When he had been feeling particularly bold, he had imagined ways Aimeric might ask him out. 

The phrase “fake boyfriend” had never been used in any of those pretend conversations.

“Sure,” Jord finally wrote back. Then after a moment, “Anything you already told them that I’ll have to know?” 

He kind of hated himself for agreeing to this. But being a fake boyfriend was better than not being a boyfriend, right?

Right?

“We've been dating for six months and are madly in love,” read the first text. Then, “Yeah, I actually said that. Sorry, I might have overdone it with the parents. Thanks Jord, you're a lifesaver. Two Saturdays from now is the wedding shower and we’re invited, if you want to go.” 

“Sure,” Jord responded immediately. “Sounds great.” 

After he sent the text, Jord put down his phone and ran his fingers through his hair. In two weeks he would finally be going on a date with Aimeric. A fake date. This was great new. This was a terrible idea.


	2. Chapter 2

As far as Laurent was concerned, the wedding shower was going great. The banquet hall was tastefully decorated, the hors d'oeuvres were to die for, and the champagne was flowing easily. Laurent usually avoided the latter but was sorely tempted by it at the moment. 

After all, there were only so many times Laurent could hear Aleron wonder aloud, “But where could they be?” 

Aleron had invited his brother and a few of his work friends. The shower had officially began almost an hour ago, but somehow they were still nowhere to be found. The more Aleron asked about them, the more excuses Laurent found. “Don’t text my uncle or Guion, dad, Aimeric says they’re driving. They had a late start but they should be here any moment.” Or, “They’ll be here soon. I’m sure. Aimeric just texted me.” 

Laurent had turned his phone off all afternoon. 

When the banquet hall staff had started to lay out the plates for the dinner, Damen whispered to Laurent, “Should we ask them to wait before serving dinner? It would be better if the rest of your family was here. And your dad definitely seems worried.” 

It was an unappreciated bit of thoughtfulness. Laurent pretended to consider for a moment. “I don’t want the food to get cold,” he finally said. “And I don’t want to hold up the whole party for just a few people. Everyone else is here.” 

Damen looked like he had his doubts, but he still nodded and went to announce to the assembled guests that dinner was about to begin and to ask if they could take a seat. Laurent watched the crowd even as he walked to his own seat. 

Everyone present had gotten invitations to the shower that had the correct time and location. Laurent’s uncle and his uncle’s friends had gotten an invitation to a reception hall that had the same name as the correct location but happened to be two towns over. It was a two hour drive to get from there to the correct location. By the time the mistake would be caught, it would be too late for the waylaid group to make it to the shower. 

What a shame. 

Laurent had spent some amount of time wondering if he could do something similar with the actual wedding invites, but his father had already sent advanced copies to everyone in the family. He would have to come up with something else. 

The sound of metal clinking against glass brought Laurent back to the present. Nikandros had stood up as if to make a speech. “When Damen asked me to plan this, I was flattered. He said he would leave most of the details up to me, but there were just two requirements. The first was that I had to include at least one party activity. The second was that beer pong, no matter how matrimony-themed I could make it, did not count as an acceptable party activity.” From the far side of the table, Makedon booed loudly to general laughter. 

“So,” Nikandros continued, “I had to think about what a good activity would be. But then I remembered that Damen told me he and Laurent were planning on writing their own vows. And I know Damen can be a terrible procrastinator, so I decided to help him along. Everyone, take a sheet. We’re writing vows for the two of them.” 

There was a general period of chatter as the paper and the pens got passed around the table. “Wow, Nikandros actually did some real prep for this party,” Damen muttered under his breath when he finally saw the paper that was being passed out. It was mostly blank, but there was a large header that spelled out in an excessive cursive against a floral background, “When we are married, I vow to:” 

It was true that Laurent and Damen had talked about writing their own vows. But that was still a few months away. Laurent had not even started to think about what he was going to say for vows. 

He looked over to see if Damen had already started, only to realize that Damen was looking at his sheet of paper and tilting his head to try to find a better angle for reading. “Hey, no cheating,” Laurent said. 

“Aww,” Damen replied in a deflated tone, and then wrote on his card, _Let Damen see what I’m writing for these things when he doesn’t know what to write._

“That’s a good one,” Laurent said, slightly jealous he hadn’t thought of it first. 

“Hey, no cheating,” Damen winked at him and Laurent rolled his eyes. He stole a quick kiss in retaliation before turning back to the sheet of paper. 

His mind was a drone of white noise. He had been the one to suggest that the two of them write their own vows, thinking they would have plenty of time to come up with something pithy but heartfelt. In the stress of planning a wedding, he had totally forgotten about it and now could not think of a single thing to write. 

After a moment of straining to think, Laurent wrote down, “Always look impressed by Laurent’s magic tricks, even when he’s still getting the hang of it.” He glanced up from his paper and saw everyone staring at the paper in front of them. Some people were smiling as they wrote, others had a look of deep concentration. Nikandros was writing with his tongue between his teeth. 

Laurent tapped his fingers against the table. What to say? What kind of promises could he give when it came to a marriage? 

When it came to the rest of his life? 

_This really is a vow for forever,_ he thought with a sudden lurch. Of course he always knew that when they talked about getting married, they were talking about the rest of their lives. But in the middle of booking a venue, finding a photographer, sampling the cakes, and the dozen other mundane tasks that led up to the wedding it was so easy to lose track of this. 

There were so many things he could promise about marriage. To have and to hold. To love and to cherish. Easy enough. 

But there were promises Laurent knew he wanted to make that would not be so easy for him. 

“To always tell the truth,” he wrote out carefully. 

And then immediately underneath it, lest he start to have too many sappy thoughts, he wrote, “To never let Nikandros host something like this again.” 

 

*****

 

Jord drove to the wedding shower with his knuckles white against the steering wheel of the car. He wondered if Aimeric noticed; the other man was texting most of the trip there. 

“You look nice,” Jord had said when he had gone to pick up Aimeric. Aimeric had flashed a small, confused smile as he walked past Jord and towards the passenger side of his car. 

“My parents aren't here, you don't have to get into character so early.” 

“No, I --,” Jord started, his face heating up. “Never mind. Let's go.”

They mostly drove in silence for the rest of the trip. At first Aimeric had tried to strike up a conversation or make a joke, but Jord’s tongue was too dry and heavy in his mouth to come up with anything much to say, and eventually Aimeric gave up. 

Jord had spent the time in silence trying to mentally steel himself for whatever this wedding shower could throw at him. By the time they arrived at the venue, he was sure he would be ready for anything. 

He was not ready to drive into an almost empty parking lot. 

“What the hell?” Aimeric asked under his breath. 

“Maybe we’re early,” Jord suggested tepidly. 

“We’re ten minutes late.” Aimeric frowned. “Oh, there’s my parents.” He pointed to a small cluster of people on the far side of the parking lot. “Let’s ask them if they know what’s going on.” 

Jord parked near the group and then he and Aimeric got out of the car and walked towards them. The only woman in the group turned to look at them with a smile on her face. “Oh, Aimeric! There you are. We’re trying to figure out what exactly is going on. No one else is here, and the people inside say they hadn’t heard anything about a wedding shower.” She paused and turned towards Jord. “But, oh. This must be Jord?”

She reached out a hand and Jord shook it uncertainly. “Loyse, nice to meet you. This,” she pointed to the man next to her, “is Guion, my husband. And that man on the phone is his business partner. Everyone just calls him the Regent.”

Jord shot Aimeric a questioning look but Aimeric only gave a bland smile back. Apparently it was totally normal for someone to just go by a title like that instead of their real name. Alright. Must be a rich person thing. 

The man who called himself the Regent chose that moment to hang up the phone. “It seems there was a mix up. The shower is actually about sixty miles west.” 

Guion frowned. “One hell of a mixup. We’re never going to make that in time.” 

The Regent shrugged. “It would appear so. Well, doesn’t have to be a complete loss. They’ve got good food inside and it is almost dinner time. Besides,” he turned to Jord with a smile that was all bared teeth, “this means we can talk with Aimeric’s friend.” 

“Boyfriend,” Aimeric sulked. 

“Yes,” Jord agreed automatically. “That.”

As they walked inside, Aimeric slipped one of his hands into Jord’s. 

Jord had the distinct impression that he was being fed to lions.

 

 

They had managed to get a table, sit down and order food before the conversation returned back to Jord. It was the Regent who brought up the subject matter, asking, “So, Jord, how long have you and Aimeric been dating?” 

“Six months,” Jord replied automatically. He knew his lines. He’d practiced. In front of the mirror. A lot. “And we’re madly in love.” 

He hadn’t quite meant to say that last part out loud. 

Aimeric had just taken a long sip of water at that moment and made a choked noise. He recovered quickly and then added, “Of course.” 

Everyone at the table was staring at them with varying degrees of incredulity. 

Whatever his private thoughts on Jord’s response, however, the Regent did not make any comment. Instead, he just continued, “Where did you two meet?” 

“At the internship,” Aimeric answered quickly. “Jord was in the same department as me. He was always so nice and helpful to me.” All that was true, Jord thought as he nodded along. “So on my last day, I asked him out.” Jord felt the corner of his mouth strain into the smile. That part was only what he had wished was true. 

“I only remember you complaining about that internship,” Loyse said, her tone one of badly concealed skepticism. “You said they weren’t taking you seriously enough.” 

Jord noticed that the tips of Aimeric’s ears had gone pink, but he replied, “Well, it was terrible having all these feelings for Jord and feeling like I couldn’t say or do anything just because I was an intern.” 

“Just terrible,” Jord echoed, only half paying attention to the conversation because his mind was busy replaying all the conversations with Orlant where his friend urged him to ask Aimeric out. 

“You felt the same?” Loyse asked, her brows knit together in confusion. “But you weren’t an intern.” 

“I meant, I wanted to ask Aimeric out,” Jord stuttered, the truth clumsier than a lie in his throat. “But like he said -- he was just an intern. It felt like it would be, I don’t know, predatory to ask him out.” 

“You weren’t his boss,” Guion shrugged, “I don’t see what the problem is.” 

“So, it’s been six months,” Loyse said, and Jord thought he heard a noise of forced cheer in her voice as she changed the subject, but maybe he was projecting onto her. “Are you two going to be moving in together soon?” 

“Uh,” was all he could think to say. 

“Uh,” Aimeric added. 

They hadn’t talked about that detail of their pretend relationship. 

“Probably not anytime soon,” Jord said, at the same time that Aimeric answered, “I'd love that!” 

They were greeted by another confused silence. Aimeric added, “Well, I’ve been trying to convince Jord. But he has his doubts.” 

Jord looked pensive. “I had a roommate until a year ago, and all we did was argue about whose turn it was to take out the trash or clean the dishes. I’d hate for our relationship to devolve into that.” He did not add: particularly before it had even begun. 

“I think it's romantic,” Aimeric said with a sigh. He was a good actor; for a minute Jord even believed him. “Living with your partner. Seeing them every day when you wake up. I know Jord has his reservations, but I can hardly wait. I mean it already feels like forever, and it's just been six months.” 

“Six months isn't that long,” the Regent said. “It could be years and it would still be worth the wait. Sometimes it just takes a while to realize if someone is right for you.” 

Aimeric stuck out his chin defiantly. “Sometimes you know right away.” 

“Oh, look, dinner’s arrived,” Loyse interrupted, and Jord heard some of his relief in her voice. 

 

 

The rest of the dinner was less eventful; the Regent and Guion talked about work as they ate and Jord faked interest in the conversation for the rest of the meal. Aimeric did seem genuinely interested in what they had to say, and Jord spent a lot of time watching how his eyes lit up as they talked and how he would nod even when no one speaking was looking at him.

Aimeric seemed somewhat disappointed when it was time to leave, and after they said their goodbyes to everyone, Aimeric was quiet as he and Jord walked to the car. 

“That was different than I expected,” Jord said, although if pressed he wouldn't have been able to say exactly what he expected.

But Aimeric only nodded in agreement. “You’re a good actor,” he replied, with a sly smile that made Jord’s stomach twist itself into a knot. 

“Not as good as you,” was all Jord could think to say. He hadn't meant it to sound like an accusation, but the words hung heavily in the air. 

Aimeric laughed. “It was fun,” he said. “I liked having dinner with you.” 

His voice sounded sincere. After an evening of hearing Aimeric lie, Jord thought he could tell the difference. 

He hoped he could tell the difference.


	3. Chapter 3

It seemed like the list of things that they needed to do before the wedding would never end. Almost every day Laurent was trying to call someone or returning a call about some service they needed for the wedding. Damen booked the photographer and DJ; they were both friends of friends or possibly friends of friends of friends. It was impossible to keep track of, particularly because almost as soon as someone met Damen they became his friend. Laurent was in charge of booking the florist. Damen had offered to help, but Laurent was insistent that this be his job after Damen let it slip that he didn’t particularly care about the difference between calla lily and lily of the valley. 

(“They look nothing alike! Look it up!” was maybe a strange thing to yell at your phone over your lunch break, but luckily everyone in the office was terrified of him and had probably assumed he was arguing with a client and not his husband and that the topic was slightly more substantial than flower species.) 

Finally, when it seemed like it was all dying down, they took advantage of the fact that both of them had a free Friday night -- no appointments to look over! no calls to take! -- and spent it together cuddled on the couch and watching a mindless cooking show. 

Just when Laurent had started to get immersed in whether the slightly burnt creme brulee would get a contestant eliminated this week, Damen turned to him and asked, “Have you written your vows yet?” 

Laurent considered. “You know, I’m thinking I’ll try to sneak in a secret message.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yes. The first letter of each word in my vow when taken together will spell something out. Probably ‘Damen hogs the covers.’ The guests will listen and be able to decode my hidden cry for help.” 

Damen let out a snort. “I’d be interested to see what vows you could make with that message. Dear All Marriage Watchers. No, wait. Last word needs to start with an E. Hmm.” 

“You see?” Laurent asked, sighing dramatically. “It is not an easy task. That’s why I need more time.”

Damen made a contemplative noise. “And here I was, just needing more time because I had no idea what to write. Anyway, I do not hog the blankets. It’s not my fault all the blankets you buy are child-sized.” 

“They’re perfectly normal-sized blankets!” Laurent objected. 

Damen just shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t include blankets on the registry. Real blankets, I mean. Really a missed opportunity there. I could've even included a note. ‘Help, my future husband's sheets are fit for a dollhouse. I am freezing at night.’” 

“I don’t know how you could have done that, as we didn’t register anywhere to my knowledge that carried bedsheets made for giants,” Laurent huffed. 

“Ok. You’ve given me an idea for something to put in my vows. I vow to always look for bedding in your size, even though my feet will always be cold at night.” 

Laurent just laughed, and Damen continued, “You know, I wonder if any of our guests actually wrote that.” 

“Oh, that wedding shower activity?” Laurent asked. He had been mulling over his thoughts about the vows since that day, but he had almost forgotten other people had actually written anything. 

“Yeah, Nikandros gave me all the papers. I put them somewhere around here,” Damen stood up and started shuffling through the piles of wedding-related papers they kept on the dining room table and which had somehow gotten taller than Laurent thought it had any right to be. “Here we are,” Damen said after a moment as he walked triumphantly back to the couch holding a heavy manilla envelope. “Do you want to read them now?” 

Laurent nodded. When Damen sat back down on the couch, Laurent curled up against him and listened to him read out the first card. “I vow to never go to bed angry and to always share my glass of wine. Hmm,” he sounded confused, “there’s no name.” 

“Doubt any of them will have them. But it’s so obviously Makedon, does he even need to sign it? He always forget I don’t drink. I try to tell him and he never listens. I think he thinks that I’m telling him a horror story.” 

Damen let out a snort and shuffled through some more of the papers. “Well, what about this one. ‘I vow to always let you know when you’re being stupid. Particularly if your name is Damen.’” 

It was Laurent’s time to snort. “That’ll be Nicaise. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t mention anything about a fork.” Damen winced and Laurent patted his thigh with exaggerated sympathy. “Is this conversation making your old war wounds act up?” 

“Nicaise would make a good child soldier. As a source of marriage advice, however? I’m not convinced.” 

“I don’t know,” Laurent laughed. “His advice seems sound to me.” 

“What else,” Damen said, shuffling again through the papers. “This one says ‘I vow to not forget my friends.’ That’ll be Nikandros.” 

Laurent let out a huff. “I’m surprised he didn’t write ‘I vow to control myself around blondes.’” 

Damen gave a playfull fluff of Laurent’s hair. “Nikandros knows I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He turned over the page and then said softly, “Well, look at what we have here.” 

The first line of the next page said, “Let Damen see what I'm writing for these things when he doesn't know what to write.” 

Laurent snapped the paper out of his fiancee’s hands. “What else did you write? I have to read these. They’re like spoilers for the wedding.” 

The next thing that he had written was, “To love and cherish.” 

Laurent gave Damen a confused look. “But those are part of the standard vows.” 

Damen just shrugged. “They’re still true, though.” Laurent couldn’t disagree there. He turned back to reading. 

The next line said, “To always listen, even if I don't always understand. To respect and be faithful.” Laurent was quiet for a moment and he ran a finger over the words as he quietly contemplated each one. 

Then he said, trying to keep any sulking to a minimum, “Your vows are better than mine.” 

Damen laughed. “I doubt that. But I want to read yours. This next one is the last one, it has to be yours.” 

He flipped the page over and started to read out loud, “To always look impressed by Laurent's magic tricks, even when he's still getting the hang of it.” Damen paused and added, “Laurent, you know I already do that.”

“I had to guarantee you kept doing it, though.” 

Damen’s smile faded when he read the next line. “To always tell the truth.” Laurent was watching his expression carefully. It had turned thoughtful. 

“The truth about it being you who finished off that last bag of cookies?” Damen finally asked. 

“Hey, I have no idea where those went,” Laurent objected. Then he added, in a more serious tone, “But no, I was talking about -- bigger truths. I haven't always been, uh, forthcoming about the truth.” 

Translation: it had taken Laurent six months to tell Damen he'd never had a serious boyfriend before, a year before he would talk about Auguste’s death, and a year and some change before he could even string together the words “I love you.” 

Damen had started to smile. “This may come as a surprise, Laurent, but -- I’ve noticed. But there’s nothing wrong with that. You're a private person. I know that and I respect that.”

Damen was giving him the opportunity to stop talking. An excuse to go back to laughing about what their guests had written or to start watching that cooking show in earnest again or something, anything except talk about this issue that had been weighing him down for so long. 

It was nice and thoughtful of Damen to provide that opportunity, but Laurent opened his mouth and the words, “There’s something I haven’t told you” tumbled out. It was not an opportunity he was going to take, apparently. 

Laurent was quiet for a moment. Damen did not say anything. Laurent focused on keeping his tone even as his heart started to race. “Something that happened in my past, and which is important to me. And I think -- well, we're going to be married, if we're planning on spending the rest of our lives together. Well. Then I think you deserve to know. No. I _want_ you to know.” 

Damen nodded slowly and uncertainly. “Laurent -- if you’re sure. I don’t want you to feel pressured just because the wedding is coming up. If it isn’t something that you’re comfortable with talking about.” 

Laurent opened his mouth and found himself about to explain why he was doing it now or to give an even longer preamble than he already had or to dance around the truth of a fact of his life that he had done everything in his power to excise but had still come back to haunt him on his wedding day. 

And then he closed his mouth, and opted for the simple truth instead. 

“My uncle sexually abused me as a child.” 

Damen opened his mouth and then closed it. Opened again, closed again. Then, after a second, he said, “Oh my god. Laurent, I --” 

Laurent added, “He's going to the wedding.” 

Damen looked startled at first and then angry. “You mean he’s not in jail?” 

Laurent shook his head. “No. No one even knows what he did, let alone has tried to put him behind bars or anything like that. I never told anyone. My own father doesn’t know.” 

Damen swore, was quiet for a moment, looked contemplative. Then he added, for good measure, “Fuck.” Another second of contemplated, and then he said, in a straightforward voice, “I'm going to murder your uncle. I'm going to strangle him with my bare hands.”

Laurent felt a certain lightness in his chest having shared that truth, as if keeping that secret had been a physical weight on him. (At times during the wedding planning, it felt like it really had been.) But he arched his eyebrows at Damen, “What, at the wedding? Are you planning to spend your first day as my husband in jail?”

Damen shrugged. “The cops will never catch me.” 

“Ok, your plan is to strangle a man in front of everyone at the wedding and the cops won’t know who did it?” 

“My plan might need some work,” Damen conceded. “But Laurent...I just wanted to say thank you for sharing this with me. I know it must be difficult to talk about.” 

Just as Laurent started to smile, Damen asked, “Do you want me to get him uninvited? I can pressure your family into disinviting him. Disinheriting him. Dismembering him. Whichever and whatever you want.” 

“Actually,” Laurent said, and his smile grew wider. “I have something of a plan. You might be able to help.” 

They spent the rest of the night discussing the plan and the wedding. Laurent leaned into the comfort and warmth of Damen’s chest. They were ready to take on the future. Together.


	4. Chapter 4

Jord gave a long sigh as he sat in his car in front of Aimeric’s apartment. He’d rented a suit for the wedding; it fit awkwardly. It had been the cheapest suit available. There was a possibility that the place he had rented it from was actually a front for the mob. He tried to discreetly look over the suit once again, looking for bloodstains. 

He was in the middle of examining his left cuff when Aimeric knocked on the car window. Jord opened the door for him. 

Aimeric was wearing a smartly cut suit and an elegant, understated tie. Jord had to stop his jaw from hanging open. Instead, he said, “You look really nice.” 

He immediately wished he hadn’t said anything, remembering what Aimeric had said the last time Jord had complimented him. But this time Aimeric’s cheeks got a little redder and all he said was, “Thanks, you too.” 

Aimeric really was a good liar.

The drive to the wedding venue was short, and they managed to talk a lot on the way there but not say anything about their fake relationship until Jord had found a parking spot and it was time to go inside. 

“Time to be madly in love,” Aimeric said, with a mischievous quirk of his lip that Jord both loved and hated. 

They had started walking inside when Jord found the voice to ask, “Did your dad say anything? About us?” 

“No,” Aimeric replied, looking confused. 

“Oh,” Jord stopped walking for a moment. “I thought the whole point was to get a reaction out of your parents.” 

Aimeric’s smile faltered somewhat. But then he just shrugged, “Guess we’ll have to be even more obvious about it, then.” 

That didn’t seem quite right to Jord, but as they made their way outside to the lawn where rows and rows of chairs had been arranged for the guests, Aimeric slipped his hand into Jord’s and Jord realized he didn’t want to press the matter further. 

 

 

The service was beautiful and short and Aimeric held Jord’s hand for all of it, but the minute it was over Aimeric took off for the open bar inside the main building. Jord got stuck behind the crowd, and by the time he made his way back to Aimeric, Aimeric was standing with his father and the Regent. The two men were deep in a conversation, while Aimeric was standing off to the side and fidgeting with his glass. 

He smiled when he saw Jord walking towards him, though. “I lost you for a minute there,” he called out, far louder than necessary. 

Jord walked up to join them with an apologetic smile on his face. Then Aimeric wrapped an arm around his waist and drew him in for a kiss. 

It felt like the muscles on Jord's face had frozen. He'd kissed people before, it wasn't like it was new to him, but somehow in that moment it felt like he had completely forgotten what his mouth and tongue were supposed to be doing. The kiss lasted only a second, although Jord couldn’t help but lean in to chase it. He knew he wasn’t supposed to. This was supposed to be the kiss of an established couple, a kiss that spoke of hundreds in the past. Not their very first one, with Jord eager for more. 

It didn’t matter. Aimeric had turned his attention back to his father and the Regent. Jord wondered if they would ever get to that point, of casual kisses and touches on the back. Real ones, not these fake ones. 

“It looks like they’ve started to set the plates for the diner,” the Regent said after a minute. “Come on Guion, let’s leave these two lovebirds alone.” 

Aimeric looked disappointed, but Jord got gave a quick nod goodbye. After they left, he waited a moment, and then gathered all his courage and said in a rush, “Aimeric, do you want to go out with me?” 

Aimeric looked confused. “Jord, we've been dating for six months. Remember?”

Jord just winced. “I wasn’t talking about -- our little arrangement. I meant for real.” 

“Well, for here and now, we’ve been dating six months, so let’s not talk about it now,” Aimeric snapped. Jord opened his mouth to complain. In a more conciliatory voice, Aimeric added, “We’ll talk about it after the wedding. Dinner is about to start. We should get going.”

Jord felt his stomach sink, but he nodded anyway. 

 

*****

 

By the time that Damen and Laurent took their seats for the reception dinner, Laurent’s legs were sore like he had been standing all day, the muscles on his face felt overstretched from smiling all day, and yet he could have sworn that the ceremony had only taken a half second. 

They had gone with the standard vows. Ultimately they got too busy to write their own, and none of their friends had provided good enough vows to actually use. Besides, Damen had said, they had a whole lifetime together to find ways to swear their love to each other. 

“So,” Laurent turned to Damen, “we’re married now, right?” 

“We are,” Damen laughed. 

“I didn’t expect it to be -- so fast. It still doesn’t feel real.” 

Damen leaned forward and Laurent gave him a quick kiss. Someone clinked their fork against their glass and when the kiss was over Laurent did his best to fix who in the crowd had done it and pierce them with an icy glare. It was a sign of how happy Laurent was that he could barely summon up a lukewarm staredown. 

“They’re going to be doing that all night,” Damen muttered. 

“We must strike first to deter them,” Laurent said, steepling his fingers. 

There was another clink of a fork against glass and Damen leaned forward to give Laurent a quick kiss to a smattering of cheers. 

“It’s a fun tradition,” Damen smiled. 

Laurent just laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing that Nicaise isn’t here. I think if he realized the power this gave our wedding guests, he would definitely use it for evil.”

Damen’s mouth set into a hard line at the mention of Nicaise and his absence. Laurent saw him looking for the Regent in the crowd with a look of open disgust. All these years and Damen still had never developed a poker face. 

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this plan?” Damen asked. “There’s always Plan B, where I just beat your uncle senseless right now.” 

It was a tempting offer. “That’ll get rid of him for a night,” Laurent pointed out. “My plan gets rid of him for good.” 

Laurent picked up his fork and clinked it against his own glass. When Damen turned back to him in surprise, Laurent was ready and beat him to the kiss. 

Today was his wedding day. It was _his_ day, and no one was going to ruin it. He had let his uncle carve out the contours of his life for too long; Laurent was going to get married, live a long happy life with Damen, and get his revenge. 

Not necessarily in that order. 

 

*****

 

Aimeric held Jord's hand every moment he could during dinner, and when the practicalities of eating a meal meant he couldn't do that, he talked about Jord. 

“Jord and I have a great vacation planned for next year in Patras,” he mentioned after his father had noted a potential business deal closing soon in that country. “You're so well travelled,” he said sweetly, turning his attention to the Regent. “Where do you recommend?” 

“Depends on what your boyfriend is interested in,” the Regent said, with that same smile that set Jord's teeth on edge, “You two must have started planning already. What are you most excited for, Jord?”

Jord hadn't taken a vacation in three years and it would take him longer than that to save up for a trip to Patras. Everyone at the table was staring at him and his mind went completely blank. He could barely remember where Patras was, let alone anything touristy to do there. 

“Uh,” he started, and then his mind filled in the rest with the truth. “Just being with Aimeric, I guess.”

The Regent laughed, “But you can do that here, too!”

Aimeric wasn’t laughing, though. He was just staring at Jord. Jord had expected him to look upset, given how he must have realized by now that he had chosen the world's worst liar to be his pretend boyfriend. But he wasn't frowning. Instead, he just looked contemplative, like he was seeing Jord in a new light. 

Jord didn’t know what to say. The Regent filled in the silence. “But, I forget. Of course you two are passionately in love.” 

“We are,” Jord answered, because saying “fuck you” wasn't appropriate for a wedding. Between the look Aimeric was still giving him and the smirk on the Regent’s face, the room felt suddenly stifling. “I'm going to see if the bar is still open,” he said, standing up very suddenly. There was a faint murmur of voices behind him as he walked away, but he tried not to listen.

The bar was still open. He got a whisky, downed it almost in one gulp, ordered another and walked aimlessly down the hall nursing his drink. 

After the wedding, Aimeric had said. He hadn't agreed to go out with Jord. He was probably just waiting for tomorrow to say no.

_This is ridiculous,_ Jord found himself thinking. _Why am I doing this?_

But Jord already knew the answer to that. Because Aimeric hadn't said no. Because even if it seemed unlikely, the way his heart fluttered when Aimeric held his hand still made him want to try. Because he wanted that kiss, but real. 

After the wedding. 

Jord finished his drink and made his way back to the table. At first he thought there must be some mistake; the table he had been at was almost empty. Only the Regent was still sitting there, looking idly at his phone. 

“Where's Aimeric?” Jord asked as he approached the table. “Where did everyone go?”

The Regent arched his eyebrows in response. “Surprised you didn't see them leave. Aimeric was making quite the scene.”

Jord frowned. “What happened?”

“Oh,” the Regent returned his attention to his phone. “I got a little fed up with the charade you two have been putting on.” Before Jord could say anything, he continued, “Don't deny it, it's been obvious almost since the beginning. Aimeric was just trying to make me jealous. I told him it wasn't working and was frankly just embarrassing. He didn't take it too well.”

“What?” Jord said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. He leaned forward against the chair, not quite ready to sit down just yet. “What are you talking about?” He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “This isn't about you, this was about convincing his parents…” Except Aimeric hadn't really paid all that much attention to his parents, had he? His attention had always been on the Regent. What the Regent was saying, what the Regent was doing. 

But that didn’t make sense either. Why would Aimeric care about the Regent?

“You’re too old for Aimeric,” he scoffed. 

The Regent shrugged. “And yet he’s still obsessed. Even after all these years.” 

“All these years? He’s nineteen.” The Regent looked startled. Like he had given too much away. The truth of the situation hit Jord like a sack of bricks. “Oh my god. How old was he? Years ago -- when Aimeric was still a kid?” 

The Regent by now had gone very pale. “I never said that. I don't know what you're talking about,” he protested weakly. 

“How old was he?” Jord repeated. He was talking so loudly that heads had started to run at the nearby tables. People were muttering. Jord couldn’t hear what they were saying. All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears. 

“What do you care?” The Regent snarled back. “You're not his boyfriend, and you're not even a convincing fake. You've lost out to someone who's just a memory, and not even a recent one --”

The Regent did not complete the sentence, because at that moment Jord punched him hard enough that he fell out of his chair and onto the floor. Gasps spread through the reception hall.

Jord did not protest when security asked him to leave. 

 

 

Jord sat in his car. He knew he should go home. Drive away. There wasn't any point to him still being here. Aimeric could always get a ride home with his parents. _Or the Regent_ , his brain supplied bitterly. 

_Or anyone in the world except the Regent_ was the follow-up thought. So he waited. He tried turning on the radio, but he wasn't having a lot of luck finding a song to match his mood. “So you're stupidly in love with someone who's still in love with their abuser” was a niche genre, after all. He was about to turn off the radio and just give up when he heard a knocking on the window. He turned around to see Aimeric, with his normally perfectly arranged curls disheveled as if he'd been running. Jord lowered the window.

“You're still here,” Aimeric smiled. “I was worried. I heard about what you did. Can I sit down?” 

Jord opened the passenger side of the car and Aimeric walked around to take a seat. 

“I must have caused a scene,” Jord said, guilt starting to nag at him. “Laurent is probably furious.”

“My dad was so mad at me. He kept telling me I had caused a scene after I stormed out. And then we get back to the reception and everyone is talking about you.” Aimeric's eyes were bright with amusement. But his expression quickly sobered. “Why did you do it, though? It didn't seem like you.”

“The Regent knew. About us. About how there isn't really an -- us.” Jord swallowed heavily. “He said you were only doing it to make him jealous.”

Aimeric just gave a small, quiet, “Oh.”

“Did you two used to date?”

“Something like that,” Aimeric conceded. “A while ago.”

“When?”

“When I was fourteen.” 

Jord swore. He couldn't help himself. Aimeric’s expression remained impassive. 

“That's --” Jord started. 

“Wrong? Illegal?” Aimeric supplied. “Jord, I know. I know how I'm supposed to feel about it. But at that age all I wanted was attention. My parents were busy. I never got alone with my brothers. Then the Regent comes along and --” He gave a helpless shrug. 

“Took advantage of you.” 

“I thought it made me special. That someone finally noticed me. I kept chasing that feeling. The Regent didn't talk to me for years. I was ready to wait. But then my dad mentioned that he was going to be at this wedding too, and I thought I could get his attention if I pretended that I had moved on.” 

Aimeric fell quiet. 

“I really liked you,” Jord said after a moment. “I always wondered if I should ask you out, during the internship.”

Jord watched as Aimeric’s hands twisted in his lap. 

“Yeah, I know,” he finally said, “That's why I asked.”

“Oh.” There was a sinking feeling in Jord's stomach. “So, uh, when you said we'd talk after the wedding --”

“You were so nice to me, this whole time,” Aimeric cut in, and there was some urgency in his voice. “You were always there for me. Even though we weren’t really dating. I forgot, once or twice. And it made me to start to think about what I was doing. I started to wonder if this was actually what I had been looking for the whole time. And I had just been looking in all the wrong places.” 

Jord felt a sudden, irrational hope. “So, when you said we’d talk after --” 

“Enough talking,” Aimeric said, just before he leaned over and kissed Jord. It was a slow, unrushed kiss. Exploratory. Nothing like before. 

A real kiss, for the start of a real relationship.

 

*****

 

The voice over the loudspeaker had just announced that boarding was going to start in five minutes when Laurent's phone rang. 

“Is it the detective?” Damen asked. 

Laurent looked at the number and frowned. “Not him. I don’t recognize this number. ” He picked it up impatiently. It better be quick, Laurent was not in any mood to be answering phone calls when he had a honeymoon in Ios to look forward to. “Yes?” 

“Uh, is this Laurent? This is Jord, from work. I got your number from HR. I was at your wedding yesterday.”

Laurent's lips curled up into a smile. “Yes, I remember you.”

After what he did at the wedding, it would have been hard to forget Jord. 

“I, uh, wanted to say I was sorry. I let my temper get the best of me. I hope I didn't ruin the wedding.”

The poor man sounded so nervous. Laurent had to laugh. Jord hadn't ruined the wedding; he'd helped make it extra special. 

“That's alright,” Laurent said. “I think my uncle quite deserved to be punched.”

He wasn't going to tell Jord, but he'd been bugged the table. Nicaise had been listening in the whole time. The idea had been to capture the Regent saying something incriminating. Laurent had started the night with a few plans to get him to talk. 

None of them had been necessary. Jord and his altercation with the Regent had been enough to establish something suspicious. 

“You have no idea,” Jord said under his breath. Laurent made a noncommittal noise. “Well, hope the rest of the wedding went well. Congratulations on the wedding, and best of luck.” 

“Thank you,” Laurent said as he hung up. Damen raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Just an unneeded apology from a certain guest ,” Laurent explained. 

“I wonder if the detective will call during the honeymoon.” 

They’d given the tapes over to a detective, who said that he was going to start working on building up a case. A search warrant was in the process of being filed.

“She said it would take a while to get the evidence,” Laurent said. “I doubt that she'll call while we're away. Personally, though, all I want to do is turn my phone off once we get on that plane. Nothing is going to interrupt our honeymoon.”

The agent announced that the flight had started to board. Damen offered out his hand and Laurent took it. He watched how their fingers intertwined, the gold band sparkling on his finger. He couldn’t wait to build a new life together with Damen.


End file.
